


Rule of Thirds

by genuivity



Series: genuivity's #victuuriweek2017 [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Alternate Universe - Photographer, M/M, Victuuri Week, Victuuri Week 2017, model!victor, photographer!Yuuri, photographer/model au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-22 18:58:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9621227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genuivity/pseuds/genuivity
Summary: Victor sent the camera a smirk, taunting, seductive,come and get me,and it hit Yuuri like a punch in the face. He clicked the camera a few more times than necessary, partly to hide his own blush but mostly because he was so caught off guard. There were too many attractive men in this industry. He wasn't cut out for this. Victor winked at him, and yeah, Yuuri thought, he should’ve gone into nature photography.(For #victuuriweek2017 - day 1: firsts, au prompt: other sports/careers)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Good pacing? Natural dialogue?? Hahaha what’s that I wrote this at 2am kill me

Three months. Massimo Magazine spent three months planning the photoshoot with Victor Nikiforov, a world-renowned supermodel. Meanwhile, Yuuri Katsuki, professional photographer and avid Victor fan, spent the same amount of time both anticipating and dreading it.

A model of Victor Nikiforov’s caliber called for the best they could offer. He had everything a model needed: charm, poise, grace, confidence. Not to mention his natural good looks and experience. How their up-and-coming L.A.-based magazine already managed to book such a sought-after name in the modeling world sounded like a lot more negotiations, finances, and luck than Yuuri was willing to think about.  But more importantly, Victor Nikiforov was Massimo Magazine’s chance to gain more national, maybe even international, traction. This shoot was a make-or-break deal for recognition, and Yuuri would be damned if he broke it because he couldn’t keep it together in front of the object of his affections.

The setup began at five in the morning, the actual shoot at seven, because one, Victor was a busy man (his agent’s words), two, he needed time to play with his dog later (Victor’s words), and three, he apparently didn’t mind getting up at the asscrack of dawn (Yuri the intern’s words). The staff was to wait on his hand and foot, to treat him like a king. They certainly dressed him like one. He wore a large fuchsia overcoat, embellished with black cuffs and lapels and accented with gold trim. Under that was a white dress shirt and black slim-fit pants. Gold buttons and chains adorned the outfit, and gold piercings decorated the shells of his ears. They decorated the set modestly with white, magenta, and sky blue roses, letting Victor take center stage.

And he did. He commanded their attention, elegant and artful. With each passing moment, it became more difficult for Yuuri to keep his composure.  The opportunity was just as anxiety-inducing as he imagined. Just being in the same room as him was enough to make his palms sweat, and the looks he gave the camera only made it worse.

At least the noise was bearable. The only sounds were camera flashes and the photoshoot director’s voice as he gave instructions. And that was all fine and good, until the director said, “Victor, could you take off the coat and unbutton the first few buttons?” 

Victor smiled, nodded, and did as he was told while Yuuri both sincerely thanked and fervently cursed the director. To flush at the sight of collarbones, _collarbones,_ for heaven’s sake, Yuuri felt like he was back in his teen years.

Yuuri hoped no one had noticed how flustered he was, especially not Victor, and just like that the universe told him to screw off.

Victor sent the camera a smirk, taunting, seductive, _come and get me_ , and it hit Yuuri like a punch in the face. He clicked the camera a few more times than necessary, partly to hide his own blush but mostly because he was so caught off guard. There were too many attractive men in this industry. He wasn’t cut out for this. Victor winked at him, and yeah, Yuuri thought, he should’ve gone into nature photography.

 

***

 

Three hours later, Yuuri was loading and editing images from the shoot onto his computer.

Sometimes, the model or client might join him for the editing process to give their input and decide what they need to do moving forward.

This was one of those times.

“Oh, that one has great lighting,” Victor said. He was at his side, leaning forward onto the desk with one hand on the table and the other behind Yuuri’s chair.

Yuuri kept his eyes on the screen, barely nodding to acknowledge what he said. His hand on the mouse shook, and Yuuri prayed Victor didn’t notice the cursor wobbling as well. He added basic adjustments, experimenting and modifying to keep himself from losing his mind in front of, in Yuuri’s humble opinion, the most gorgeous guy in the world.

Yuuri added a new adjustment, and Victor hummed. “Mm, I’m not sure how I feel about that filter. Also, can I have your number?”

Yuuri toggled the layer on and off. He thought it looked fine, it heightened the shadows, brightened the lights, drew attention to the angles of Victor’s face. Victor was a world-class model, not a world-class editor, and sure, Yuuri would probably drop everything in an instant to marry him, but he did _not_ get a college degree to get schooled by—Wait.

“Wait.” Yuuri blinked up at him. “What?”

Victor leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest, eyes still trained on the screen. “Sorry. That was unprofessional of me. The filter looks good.” 

Forget the filter. If Yuuri’s ears didn’t deceive him, there were more important matters. “It’s okay, but, sorry, I just- I didn’t catch that last part?” His voice grew quiet and rose at the end as he spoke.

He tapped his lips. “Ah, I asked for your number. But that was unprofessional too…”

Yuuri looked at Victor like he had grown a second head. His number? As in, the number to his personal phone? The one he used for texting and Instagram and saving pictures of Victor? No way. Surely he meant— 

“I can... give you my business card?” He mumbled through it, unsure of what to say.

Victor looked thoughtful, pressing a finger to his chin. “Actually, that works for me.”

Oh. So he had meant business. He stood and fished out a card from his wallet, clumsy and graceless and shaking, much to his own horror, and handed it to him. He couldn’t muster up enough composure to look him in the eyes, so he stared at the Victor on the screen. As if that was any better; the Victor on the screen wore a roguish grin and sly eyes, exuding confidence in a resplendent outfit. He glanced back at the Victor before him, and it was the same person in the same clothes, but the expression was completely different.

“Yuuri Katsuki,” he read, tone mild. He looked at him with a small smile on his lips, eyes gentle and head tilted. “Did I pronounce that right?”

Wide-eyed, Yuuri looked up at Victor, with his soft smile and kind gaze, and found himself returning the expression. “Yes.”

Victor paused a moment, then said, “Great! Now, do you have a pen?”

“Oh, here.” Not thinking anything of it, he handed him one.

“Thank you,” he said, putting the card on the table and writing on the back. To Yuuri’s shock, he slid the card back to him with a wink. 

“I must go, but it was very nice meeting you, Yuuri. Call me, okay?” And with that, he left, taking all of Yuuri’s presence of mind with him. The second Victor exited the room, he dived onto the card.

Written in quick, messy penmanship, was a phone number, followed by a winking face.

 

***

 

Three days had gone by, but Yuuri found himself still in the same sense of disbelief.

He was at a crossroads. Should he call the number? What if Victor had given him the wrong number? What if Victor had given him a prank number? And even if he did call, what would he say? What did Victor even want with him?

When he told Phichit, makeup artist and certified best friend, about it, he had jumped at the chance, taking Yuuri by the shoulders and shaking him. “You have to call him, you _have_ to.” He made Yuuri look into his dark gray eyes. “It’s your duty, to your past self and future self and everyone who would kill to get his number. Including me.”

Meanwhile, after Yuri the intern demanded to know what had gotten into him these past few days, he was met with a disgusted look. “Block the number,” he had said. “Burn the card. Change your name, become a pig farmer in some remote, off the grid corner of who-cares-where.”

Conflicting advice, see. Granted, Yuri was probably joking, though his deadpan snark made it hard to tell. Either way, Yuuri was seriously considering it.

But after enough days of it eating up at him and much reassurance on Phichit’s part that no, Victor was not out to dupe him, but yes, he found him cute enough to give him his number, he decided to text him. He hoped for both possibilities, that Victor’s phone either could or couldn’t receive text. If it didn’t, at least he could say he tried.

When two days passed without a response, Yuuri was ready to drop it. He had spent an inordinate amount of time reading over the texts he sent, the first a simple, ‘Hello, Victor? It’s Yuuri’, the second saying, ‘The fashion photographer’, and the third saying, ‘If I have the wrong number please ignore this’. Phichit told him he sounded too impersonal, but Yuuri thought he was really putting himself out there. He even triple-texted.

When the third day came around, Yuuri received a picture from the contact he had labeled ‘Victor(?)’. He opened it, and a large, brown poodle filled the screen, looking at the camera with its tongue out.

It was followed by a text. ‘Look how happy my dog is! I’m happy too!!’

 

***

 

Three months had passed, and while Yuuri’s disbelief had died down, it was quickly replaced by a warm feeling in his chest and a bigger phone bill. 

Victor and Yuuri texted often, almost daily. Victor was adamant about getting to know him, and his candid interest and natural flirtatiousness eventually got Yuuri to open up. It also helped that he sent pictures often, mostly of his dog Makkachin, but occasionally scenery or a set he was on, and once a blurry selfie he thought was artsy but too messy for Instagram. Yuuri melted. He didn’t stand a chance.

One day, Yuuri was woken up by a text at three in the morning, but its contents had shocked him into full alertness: ‘I’m going to LA in a few weeks, can I see you?’

The prospect of seeing Victor again made his fingers shake as he typed. ‘Sure, where/when?’ He thanked texting as a medium for making him sound much more collected than he really was. 

They worked out a meeting at a frozen yogurt place close to where Victor had a photo session. Victor closed it out with, ‘It’s a date! <3’, and going back to sleep was a lost cause.

 

***

 

Three weeks later, they were eating frozen yogurt and hiding in a shopping mall from the bright L.A. sun.

“When I first saw you,” Victor said, taking a bite of yogurt. “I thought I was modeling with you. Really, I think you should be in front of the camera.”

Yuuri blinked at him. “I-I think you should start wearing my glasses.” There was no way he thought that. Not a chance. The day they met, Victor looked like royalty, while Yuuri looked like a raccoon who woke up on the wrong side of the dumpster.

“You underestimate yourself, Yuuri. I bet I can teach you to be a great model.” Victor said, smug.

“Or, I can teach you photography.” Two could play at this game.

“Hm, I might take you up on that.” Victor laughed. “I don’t know much about photography, but I think I can already picture us together.”

Yuuri gawked at him, bashful, and lightly hit him on the shoulder. “That was… Wow. Where did you even get that one?”

“I’m just that smooth.” After Yuuri gave him a disbelieving look, Victor said, “Google. Look up ‘pick-up lines for photographers.’”

“You’re unbelievable.”

Victor grinned. “So are you. You know, a picture is worth a thousand words, but there are no words for a picture as beautiful as you.”

Yuuri swore his frozen yogurt tasted like mozzarella, it was so cheesy. His blush deepened, and it was a while before he could think of a response. “Yeah, well, are you a model?” He started off, not able to meet his eyes. “Because you’re… super?”

He regretted the words the second they left his mouth. That was so pathetic, it made Victor’s lines sound great in comparison. But Victor didn’t seem to have the same reaction; he let out a laugh and wrapped an arm around Yuuri’s shoulder.

“Would you believe that I _am_ a model?” His voice was elated now. “And you must be a camera, because every time I look at you, I smile.”

Okay, two could not play at this game. Google gave him too much power. “I give up.”

“Oh, it’s alright. Because now,” Victor pulled out his phone, “you’ll have to let me take a picture of us.”

“Shouldn’t I be the one taking the photos?”

“Think of it as your first lesson to me, then. How do I take a good selfie?”

They sat on a bench in the mall, posing for pictures, most ending up out of focus as Victor’s arm shook from laughter and delight. Yuuri took Victor’s phone at once and snapped the perfect image: he’s resting his head on Victor’s shoulder, hair pushed back, cheeks dusted pink, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. Victor’s head is tilted against Yuuri’s, blue eyes crinkled up in a genuine smile.

Yuuri watched as Victor, fond and endearing, made the picture his phone background.

 

***

 

Three years passed since they met, and Yuuri had another photoshoot with Victor.

Though this time, as Victor had said, Yuuri was with him in front of the camera. They were outdoors, surrounded by white, magenta, and sky blue roses. They faced each other in black tailored suits, holding hands that featured matching gold rings. 

The wedding photographer was quiet as he snapped photos of the couple, the sounds that filled the air a serene mix of birds singing, wind blowing, and camera clicking.  
  
Yuuri leaned up to touch their foreheads together, noses brushing, and they smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> It’s definitely not perfect, but it’s finished. That’s what matters. Comments always appreciated.
> 
> [my tumblr](https://genuivity.tumblr.com/)


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